Guilt
by Batwish
Summary: Everyone believes something. We hold onto these believes with both hands and refuse to let go, we feel like we would spiral into the endless abyss if we did. But sometimes we have to, in exchange for better believes or simply because we can't ignore the truth any longer. But when we do, what if it already too late?


**AN: This is my first story, it's just a one-shot, so I hope you can understand if it isn't all that good. I'm also sorry if it isn't understandable as my writing isn't organized yet. Cover image is mine. Constructive criticism and reviews would be welcomed. Enjoy!  
**

 _Blind. Rash. Short-sighted. Impulsive. Thoughtless._

Thoughts whirled around her head in a tornado. The screen of her computer glared at her from her simple wooden desk, the only source of light to illuminate her pacing figure. She counted her steps, watching her feet move on autopilot with unnatural intensity. Five footfalls. No, that wasn't right. It should take her only three silent, purposeful steps to march from her bed to the table that sat on the other side of her room.

But her steps weren't silent, neither were they purposeful or soldier-like. Her usually intimidating and confident walk was gone. Instead, her feet shuffled almost lazily across the floor as she paced back and forth. They refused to listen to her commands and pleas for them to settle in a straight line, to lose the awkward stumbling her march had gained.

 _Awkward. Confident. Truthful. Deceitful. Helpful, innocent. Powerful, dangerous._

Her bare toes hit the base of her bed and the girl spun on her heel, placing her other foot in front of her slowly, trying to dull the thud that resonated across her room with each step. Her once bright eyes were dull, almost gray in the white glow of the monitor screen displaying a disregarded content. Sharp shadows crawled across her face as she faced the facts in front of her again.

 _Blue. Green. Black. White. One bashful and shy, but always ready to help anyone, even a complete stranger. The other heroic one moment and back-stabbing the next, yet elusive enough to never be around for questioning._

It really wasn't hard to grasp. In a sense, she might have already known, somewhere in her subconsciousness. He had always tried to help. Was willing to forgive and forget what she had done for all those years without a second thought. Had tried to help her, save her from the carefully strung web of lies made to bait her in. But she had been oblivious to that, believing every little sugar-coated, bittersweet word that fed her anger and fury, her need for vengeance.

She had been like a horse tied to a carriage, able to only see what was in front of her, only spot what her master directed her to and wanted her to see. And perhaps only what she had wanted to grasp. She had been almost happy in the obliviousness, in the ignorance that came with being the soldier, a pawn.

She had filed all of them under one label. Hadn't bothered to look for more, search for proof that her actions truly were the right thing. She had fallen into a routine, refusing to break it no matter what struck her.

But that was before, when life made sense, when it was all simply black and white. Her against them. They were all bad and needed to be neutralized in her head. And they all showed it. Coming and destroying her beloved hometown ruthlessly, ruining lives, dreams and families. There was a sea of faceless villains, each with different ways and styles, but all with one goal and plan. To make her little town of Amity Park a living hell.

But there was one that didn't fit in. He acted as if on their side, gaining their trust and alliance, all the while planning out the next attacks. Or so she had thought. She had thought she was the one thing that stood between him and her town. She couldn't have been more wrong.

Her uncoordinated footfalls stopped, lost lifeless eyes staring at the pictures on the screen, yet not seeing her room at all. From the too-bright monitor, a face stared back at her. Eyes as dull as her own, yet at the same time emptier and brighter.

A dark-skinned hand brushed away an unruly bang of black matted hair, surprising herself at how bony her own limb was.

But why wouldn't it be? She was responsible for the death – no, murder – of a person. Her teal eyes trailed the face in front of her, before snapping upwards to the name of the site that had once brought so much pride to her heart. Now it only chased away everything else.

'G.I.W.'

One blue and one green luminescent eye stared back at her. Hair falling carelessly in a messy style was split in half, black on the right, white on the left.

' _Danny Phantom/Daniel Fenton was apprehended and shipped to a secure research lab on the west coast. Further experiments are in order to uncover the possibilities that this hybrid brought.'_

A ray of natural light burst into her room, signaling the rising sun. Still, even after her third night spent mindlessly pacing between her bed and desk with the evidence of her crime glaring her down, Valerie can't find it in her to bring out the long since forgotten sense of vengeance she had before or call forth her red and black anti-ghost suit.

After all, every accomplishment comes with a price. The only question is, is it worth it?

Her satisfaction for someone else's life.


End file.
